The Vote
by lorethevac
Summary: Another look at a possible Quell if the Hunger Games had continued without a rebellion. The Vote happens daily, you have no say in The Vote, and The Vote is final. Rated T for brief suggestive content and violence


The Vote

There's only 13 of us left. Most of us decided to camp at the Cornucopia. After all, there's no reason to kill one another at the moment, and we don't know what dangers lie out in the skyscrapers of the abandoned city that is our arena. Four tributes decided to leave and explore the city for a source of food and shelter, and they're all dead. The other seven tributes have died as a result of the vote.

Four minutes.

Janessa comes over to sit with me on the concrete. Janessa is the epitome of gorgeous, probably the most beautiful girl from District 9. I've seen them all, both in school and at the rock quarries where we all work, and none of the can compare to her. Her brown hair is shiny and well kempt, even after eleven days in the arena. Her exotic green eyes stare up at the clouds, ready and waiting for news. I doubt it'll be her. She's beautiful, decently talented with knives, and speaks very eloquently.

Three minutes.

"Who do you think it'll be this time, Brice?" Janessa asks me.

I shrug. "I'm not sure anymore. Maybe the girl from 3?"

We both look over at the girl, who sits up against the Cornucopia, holding a small knife in her hand, staring at it intensely. She isn't the worst looking girl, but all the unattractive tributes are already dead, and "average" has become the new "ugly".

Suddenly, the girl jumps to her feet and starts climbing to the top of the Cornucopia. All of the tributes that see her follow her climb with their eyes. She gets to the top, and shockingly begins to sway and take off her clothes. I look away immediately. As the girl continues to strip, the other tributes start to jeer her.

"That's not gonna help you!"

"Put your clothes back on!"

"Dancing naked is for strippers, not tributes!"

Eventually the girl is persuaded. In tears, she puts her clothes back on, and slides off of the horn.

One minute.

Quite the interesting Quell this year. I remember my grandfather telling me stories of the first Quell, the one where the tributes were voted in by their districts. This Quell has a vote too, but it's very different from 75 years ago.

The anthem sounds, and all 13 of our faces appear in the sky. We all gather in front of the Cornucopia, as we had all agreed to do after the boy from 1 ran off before the vote was even done. He had ended up guessing right, because he got the vote, and it had been difficult to track him down.

One by one, the faces begin to fade out. Janessa's goes first; she's safe. The Capitol loves her. I have no doubt that she'll make it to the final 2. Next is the boy from 5. He's got a very athletic body and a chiseled jaw. Very handsome, apparently.

More and more faces begin to fade out. I start to worry a little when there's only six faces left and mine's still up there.

What's not to like about me? I'm decently good-looking, I got a 7 for a training score, much better than some of the tributes that are still here, and the Capitol liked my interview. So why am I still up there?

I breathe a sigh of relief when my face finally fades out. Now it's just the boy from 11 and the girl from 3.

The safe tributes form a circle around the two of them, each of us holding our weapons of choice. These two are currently the underdogs, and according to the faces in the sky, they are currently the Capitol's least favorite tributes. One of them will pay for it.

The vote comes in. The girl from 3's face fades out. Apparently her ploy has worked, and some twisted freak in the Capitol has voted her as his favorite. She's safe, for now, and she runs out of the circle.

As for the boy from 11, with his average features, unimpressive training score, and not-so-memorable interview, time has run out. The citizens of the Capitol have voted; he must die. The circle begins to close in on him. He panics, running back and forth, looking for a gap. He holds a knife in his hand, but compared to the spears, maces, and swords that the rest of us carry, it might as well be a spoon. I land the first blow with my axe, and the rest of the tributes fall upon him. He is dead in seconds.

The hovercraft arrives to carry away the dead boy's body, and drops 12 large packets of food for the rest of us. We each take one, our reward for following through on the rules of this Quell. I take out a hunk of cheese and dig in, not thinking about the bloodstains on my axe, both fresh and dry.

There will be another vote tomorrow. Someone else will die tomorrow. I can only hope it's not me.


End file.
